The Bends
by Anachronistic Dime
Summary: Some things can never be...but isn't the fallout beautiful? Movieverse. Peter x Caspian X.


**Disclaimer: I own nothing. I am a starving Art/English major trying to market her first novel. If you sue me, I will cry. Lyrics from "The Bends" by Radiohead. Also, if you need a beta, I'm ready and willing. Wow, that sounded way dirtier than I meant it to...**

**Pairing: Peter x Caspian X**

**Ben Barnes is a scorching hottie. That is all.**

**Oh, and Peter and Caspian were _totally_ gay for each other in the film, so that's what this is based on; haven't read the books since I was, like, eight years old. Plus, Spaniard!Caspian is infinitely cooler than Aryan13YearOld!Caspian. endauthorprattle**

It's the first day of the rest of his life, or so they say. He stands in the woods, trying to figure out where the hell he is, where he's going to go, why they're trying to kill him.

And then he sees them. Him. Golden, shimmering adolescent on the verge of adulthood, all sun-flushed cheeks and bright eyes. He stands before him with the others, hand cautiously braced against the hilt of his sword.

Caspian can't do anything but gape, and it's all rather pathetic; as a Telmarine Prince, soon to be King, he is supposed to be eloquent, poised, mature. He is also not supposed to be having such untoward thoughts about another man.

He gasps, falling to his knees before the younger man. "High King Peter!"

_Where do we go from here? The words are coming out all weird / Where are you now?_

The next few days flash forward like a dream—good or bad, Caspian's not sure. He knows Peter's caught him looking at the most inopportune times; sitting around a fire with the others, chin in his hand, dark eyes glittering as he contemplates the visage of the High King of Old; an awkward blush and tremble as he watches Peter disrobe from the corner of his eye before wading into a stream.

He's supposed to like Susan, of course. Her words echo in his mind: "_You might need to call me again."_ But her lips, puffy and stung-looking, her dark hair far too much like his own; they're nothing compared to Peter. He forces a smile, but he can't help thinking of Jadis, how he almost ruined them all.

He's so ashamed; standing there like a fool, hand outstretched, dazzled by the austere beauty of the Witch even as the others storm in, wondering what the hell's happening. Peter shoves him aside; Caspian looks on, dismayed.

Later, when Peter's scolding him about what happened, as they butt heads yet again over the fate of Narnia, he's confused. He's not supposed to think of leaning forward and capturing Peter's lips with his own; he's supposed to be repentant. But Caspian, he can't help it. He thinks of Doctor Cornelius' words: "_All that you know is about to change." _How true, how horribly true. The sincerity in the old man's voice, in his eyes, should be enough to stop him, but…

He grabs Peter's collar, brings him closer, and then it's a rush of dark skin against pale, the clash of lips and limbs as they struggle against one another, pushing away and yet drawing each other in at the same time.

He remembers Peter and the rock that first day, the mutual disappointment. Not what he expected, no, but now—now, he understands that it's something much, much better.

They can't stay entwined like this for much longer, panting and gleaming with a fine layer of sweat in the firelight; they'll have to get up and dress, ready to battle. This might be the last time; the first, and yet the last.

Caspian can't stand it. He pulls Peter up roughly, mashes their lips together, pinning the other boy against the wall. His eyes slip shut for a moment, but he forces himself to pull back. Fastening his armor and grabbing his sword, he stalks out.

This can't happen. He can't let it.

He locks eyes boldly with Susan, smiling faintly at her blush. What she'll never understand is the bitterness behind that smile as Caspian strides away on long legs, legs that are shaking as he remembers the night before.

His brow furrows, dark eyes hardening slightly as Peter trots up to him a moment later, disheveled and panting. He stops, places a slender hand on Peter's cheek, and his own words come rushing back to him: _"Five more minutes…"_

That's the problem, you see. That's the tragedy of it all. He smiles darkly at Peter, letting go and walking away again. The boy's puzzled look, eyes glittering as he hovers on the verge of tears, are more than he can take right now.

He calls over his shoulder, words of adoration on the tip of his tongue that can't come out, so he settles for a more wistful sentiment.

"I wish we could've had more time."

Behind him, Peter clenches a fist. _So do I, Caspian. So do I._

_Baby's got the bends...oh no._


End file.
